Nothing much happened to me. Life went on like a boring breeze. My sleep has become better and I have cut down on cigarettes. I listened to a Facebook video by Joyce Carol Oates on the art of writing. Though very short, it was very interesting. A writer has to think and feel all the unsaid—the inner consciousness of the mind. A writer’s consciousness is very special. A writer is a person who is very sensitive. When overcome with feeling, when in the emotional cauldron of the mind, the first steps of planting the writing begins.
I had a strange dream. In it I was having intercourse with my wife. It’s not something to wonder about as my sex life is rather starved. Yes Freud is right; dreams are wish-fulfillment of desires.
I savored the beauty of the sunrise with a mystic passion. I heard the chirps and tweets of birds singing a fond lullaby.
I took an English Class for the 8th graders, the story being 6 Napoleons by Sherlock Holmes. I am not a big fan of pulp fiction, but I enjoyed the plotting of the story. Conan Doyle is a master of storytelling. In the story we find the busts of Napoleons being broken to rubble. Then we come to understand that it is the work of an escaped convict who had placed a priceless pearl in one of those busts. Sherlock Holmes discovers that the 6th Napoleon is to be burgled and makes a plan to catch the intruder. The robber is caught and Holmes smashes the head of the bust to recover the valuable pearl.
I read the Bible and in it the Story of Moses. Moses was born at a time when the Pharaoh persecuted the Jews and ordered that all the male children be beheaded. When Moses was a baby, his mother put him in a reed basket and placed him in the Nile. When the Pharaoh’s daughter saw the basket, she asked her maid to fetch it. She adopted the baby as her own son. The mother of Moses was called to look after her own son. When Moses was a young man, he saw an Egyptian hitting a Jew and then in a fit of anger, he killed him. When the Pharaoh found it out, Moses had to flee to Midian. There he married a Priest’s Daughter.
Goddess itch belonged to the tickly-too kingdom. She invaded my body and started irritating me. She spread her tentacles on my legs, on my back, on my face, and even on my balls. To get rid of her I decided not to bathe. At last she left me unable to bear my smell.
Today was a slow crawl. The singing of the birds was a pleasant incantation. I got the Bible—The Message woven with a new leather cover.
I started reading the story of Noah. Yes the quality that Noah had was obedience to God. After the ark was finished he and his family boarded the ship. It rained for 40 days and 40 nights and after that he sent a dove out of the ark and it did not return and then he knew that the rains had stopped. Yes Noah is a great architect of his time. Noah as an idiom stands for being a great architect and one who is obedient.
I took an English Class for the 8th Graders and it was Hands and Hearts by O Henry. It was a confusing story for the Children and let me explain why? The story starts with a pretty woman in a carriage and she is facing two handcuffed people. One of them was known to her, the younger, handsome one. The other was a brawny ruffian who did not want to make his co-partner embarrassed. It is said in the story that the woman was an acquaintance of the younger man. The ruffian then dialogues to the woman telling him, he is being escorted by a Marshall. The children were not able to understand why the police was not present. Then again the flaw in the story is, the writer describes the woman as getting out, and then only to tell that she is in the train. I told the kids when we read fiction we should have a poetic license. I have read many O Henry’s stories and I love the Last Leaf. But this story did not strike chords with my soul.
I also teach Geography. I love the interpretation of topographical maps as it provides an assessment based on understanding and interpretation. But the rest of the chapters are a bore as everything is dependent on what and why questions. For example: students have to cram the places from which ores exist. They have to digest water resources. They have to explain soil and transport and so on. The irony is that I have develop mnemonics to make them remember the mass collage of facts.
Borges the Writer is a sweet monster of the language known for circumlocution….I am his alter ego and he keeps communicating me from the grave. For the moon his favorite verb is: moonizes. She moonized her buttocks. He cunnilingulalized her. He naturalizes art. Poetize the world to live in an extreme state of passion. James Joyce epicualized one day of a man’s life. She labialized her and made her ecstasy. Mumbojumbolize the word. Literature ornamentalizes the world. Poeticize the world as art.
Morning cruised around smoothly. I took two classes of Geography, one the Geography of India and the other Geography of the World. I felt happy as the 9th and 10th graders were active and attentive.
It’s evening now and I am looking at the colored sky, the setting of the sun, all melodious epiphany. Yes, we can learn the art of the novel by looking at nature.
I pondered on certain Biblical thoughts mainly the concept of sin. All humans are sinful because of the Sin of Adam and Eve. But there’s a difference. A child who dies won’t be punished for the sin of Adam and Eve and will partake heaven. The second sin is the sin from knowledge, a deliberate, scheming sin such as adultery, murder, covetousness and the whole lot. A mature human can be judged in Heaven based on the sin committed by willful knowledge.
I also thought about death. Though I was an atheist, the fear of death made me a theist. The dreams I had of monsters are very frightening. I have a fear-phobia-complex. I sometimes think that any moment that I might die. I also think that I might have an accident. I am also afraid of committing suicide.
What is the Manna for writing? The sounds, sights and smells of nature are favorite tools for a writer. Writing is like: in Wordsworth’s words: I wandered lonely as a cloud. The colors of the sky are singing a synaesthesia. Nature is the embodiment of the soul and becomes a text for writing. The manna of the clouds poured a celestial music. The brook played the Song of Songs. The waves frolicked in laughter. Wind kissed my cheeks making me glow with joy. Thunder grumbled in rage.
Writing is a painting of words. Writing bequeaths art in the form of figures of speech. Syria is a wailing banshee. The sword of Damocles hangs precariously over Hong Kong. A white beard covered the earth. Fortune is a Goddess of luck. The ribs of freedom started protesting. Seasons are a joy of music. I have a money-empty pocket. Rock-bulldozing rhythm makes the brain go berserk. Cure the tempest of my mind with an apothecary. Palestine let nectars of freedom fly as dove making a homeland to live. Dramatize life on the stage of the theater. Let not the poison of angst become the dread of your soul. Let dreams be saddled by fortune’s wand. Eye not lust: Eye Love. Patience is a wretch of oppression. The heart is a nation o love. Slam a fist on corruption. My neurons are a punch bag.
Morning serenaded as a poem of a beloved. Listened attentively to the chirping and tweeting of birds. Since the exams were going on I did not have classes to take. The sky chirped in an aura of colors. God Jehovah Jesus is the creator of beauty and he is the master architect. I sincerely thank him for all the blessings given. It is said in the Bible: What is beautiful: think about these things.
Life lives in me a like a poetry of art. I am the potter’s clay and I am yielding on the porter to make me perfect. I thank the potter for making me sufficient and self reliant.
For some time now, I was caught up in a tug of war between Satan and Christ. When things don’t work right I lean towards Satanism. But now I am a reformed proselyte and I am returning o the father like a prodigal son. Yes, my heavenly father is taking two steps when I am taking one step to welcome me. Satan tempted me to slander and tamper the scripture and I did. But in repentance I have deleted all content and I have asked God Jehovah for forgiveness. Yes, he is a loving God wanting to accept and rejoice with the prodigal son who is returning.
Read through the story of creation. Read how Adam and Eve were created in the likeness of God and that’s the original sin. This sin has been redeemed with the sacrificial blood Christ spread on the cross. I am always asking God to make me stay away from sin. Yes, the wages of sin is death. I with all humility ask God to make me humble and thankful. I can’t count his blessings.
I walked with nature with a poetic heart. Nature’s colors were a musical joy to feast. The lullaby of the birds resounded with an aura of pleasantness. I feel so happy and contented with the world. The Word is the world given to me. Yes, salvation and eternal life in heaven mean much to me. Trucks from the quarry are carrying metal and roaring through the road. The aroma of an old flame became a visceral entity. The soul is the seat of all beauty and passion. It’s gift rendered by God. Oh God I seek your mercy and grace. Cover me with your precious feathers. Let me be grounded on your love. Remember not my iniquity. Help me live long to see my grandchildren frolicking.
Every day I am trying to devote myself to the garden of writing. I hope Oh God that in the garden of writing all flowers will be in full bloom. Music drips heavy on each word. The silence of nature is a deafness of beauty. The brook that’s murmuring is a hymn sung to heaven. Psalms are floating merrily through the sky. The waltz of nature is God’s beauty incarnated. Oh, dear and loving God….please look into my heart as I am gravitating towards you….Make me an art , celestial symphony. Oh Lord, I got to be at peace with myself. No matter what, I got to be serene in the heart. Lord I have only one life on earth and make this life, peaceful and blessed. ‘Give me the kindness that passeth all understanding.’ Nature is wearing her celestial robes. The clouds are canoe moving hazily across the sky. Lord, teach me the mysteries of nature. Help me understand the rhythms of nature. Let me hear the celestial poetry of the heavens. Let me immerse my soul in the beauty and harmony of your being. My being is God the maker. Life is short on earth and the eternal life with God in the Heavens is the joy and beauty of life ahead. Lord, rein a Manna of Blessing. Lord as your command says: it’s a joy to love thy neighbor as thy self. In you oh Lord, I have realized the meaning of life.